f Albert Einstein applied to university today, would he have been accepted? Sure, he had the IQ of a genius and excelled in maths and physics. But did he do enough extracurriculars? Was he charming enough to secure glowing recommendation letters? Could he summon the patience to endure entrance exams for every single university? Was he articulate enough to craft a persuasive personal statement? The truth is, there’s a real chance his application wouldn’t have survived the admissions algorithm. He never ticked all the right boxes. And after seeing the rejection letters, he might have thought: I am not good enough.
During his schooling, he clashed with teachers, skipped classes, and even failed the entrance exam to the Swiss Federal Polytechnic. In 2025 or now in 2026, his application file would vanish before a human even saw it. We can easily imagine him struggling to list clubs when he barely survived school. But the truth is, this isn’t about Einstein. This is about our collective perception of genius and talent in modern times. Humans rarely fit into a template, but our system demands one.
By the age of 18, we expect teenagers to have published research papers and interned at the UN. At that point, what is the difference between students and professionals? The system begins the cycle early on by drilling into the minds of 13-year-olds that they must build ‘portfolios.’ High school becomes a timeline: make a CV, make a LinkedIn profile, get certificates. Then come SAT prep consultancies, costly extracurriculars, and connections within the Model UN community. Meanwhile, our society rarely has space for self-taught coders, artists without portfolios, writers with personal projects, or students from underfunded schools. So we must ask ourselves: can the admissions algorithm even detect a genius? How many innovators have been rejected because they weren’t a team captain or couldn’t play a note on the cello? The system never knew their names, and never cared to ask.
Our generation has collectively lost itself in the race of merit lists. Value now means being impressive and marketable, instead of claiming your own identity or exploring your potential. The constant competition leads to pressure, burnout, and eventually, imposter syndrome. Who defines what ‘good enough’ is? Everyone who strives for something is already good enough. We forget that trying is good enough, under all those expectations.
Yes, it has really come to this. I should know. I’m a 17-year-old model student on a gap year. From November to February, I dedicated my time to writing supplemental essays and personal statements. My extracurricular profile has been building since Grade 6. Honestly, if leadership didn’t matter for applications, very few students would run for elections. Even fewer would fundraise for flood relief. Rather than questioning intentions, maybe we need to question the mindsets we’re shaping. This is what happens when we implement an ‘act & reward’ system: Do this because it will look good on your profile. Somewhere between the application portal and weekend activities, my dedication became a checklist, and so did the judgment of the admissions committee.
I am not claiming to be Einstein or to excel in STEM, but I know what it feels like to work for years and still find yourself on the outside looking in. I am speaking for the many who have gone through this process. Those who felt they weren’t good enough. What if the next Einstein is already in our inbox, and we just hit ‘reject?’ We say we want innovators, but we build gates only conformists can pass through. If the next Einstein is out there, I just hope we don’t delete his application before even reading it. Maybe he is already slumped at home after a rejection, thinking he isn’t good enough… and never delivering the breakthrough the world needs.
We need to raise a generation that understands learning is not transactional. We, as a society, are choosing to be a duller species by forgetting how to explore, experiment, and create. The given set of rules is followed blindly because everyone is too afraid of taking a wrong step and ‘failing’ in life. But how can someone fail at life when the purpose is simply to live? When the email arrives saying ‘we regret to inform you,’ we are subconsciously telling young people that they are undeserving. Schools should teach students to discover what they would like to do in their lives. Not everyone has to be a debater. Let them practice any art; music, writing, storytelling, photography, or perform science experiments for the sake of curiosity. Read beyond metrics. Value curiosity and imperfection. I don’t know what an ideal admissions system would look like. Our current one is far too rigid for that openness. But maybe we can start by acknowledging the flaws and, slowly, breaking the mindset that created them.
The author is a freelance writer and student.
We Regret to Inform You, Mr. Einstein
f Albert Einstein applied to university today, would he have been accepted? Sure, he had the IQ of a genius and excelled in maths and physics. But did he do enough extracurriculars? Was he charming enough to secure glowing recommendation letters? Could he summon the patience to endure entrance exams for every single university? Was he articulate enough to craft a persuasive personal statement? The truth is, there’s a real chance his application wouldn’t have survived the admissions algorithm. He never ticked all the right boxes. And after seeing the rejection letters, he might have thought: I am not good enough.
During his schooling, he clashed with teachers, skipped classes, and even failed the entrance exam to the Swiss Federal Polytechnic. In 2025 or now in 2026, his application file would vanish before a human even saw it. We can easily imagine him struggling to list clubs when he barely survived school. But the truth is, this isn’t about Einstein. This is about our collective perception of genius and talent in modern times. Humans rarely fit into a template, but our system demands one.
By the age of 18, we expect teenagers to have published research papers and interned at the UN. At that point, what is the difference between students and professionals? The system begins the cycle early on by drilling into the minds of 13-year-olds that they must build ‘portfolios.’ High school becomes a timeline: make a CV, make a LinkedIn profile, get certificates. Then come SAT prep consultancies, costly extracurriculars, and connections within the Model UN community. Meanwhile, our society rarely has space for self-taught coders, artists without portfolios, writers with personal projects, or students from underfunded schools. So we must ask ourselves: can the admissions algorithm even detect a genius? How many innovators have been rejected because they weren’t a team captain or couldn’t play a note on the cello? The system never knew their names, and never cared to ask.
Our generation has collectively lost itself in the race of merit lists. Value now means being impressive and marketable, instead of claiming your own identity or exploring your potential. The constant competition leads to pressure, burnout, and eventually, imposter syndrome. Who defines what ‘good enough’ is? Everyone who strives for something is already good enough. We forget that trying is good enough, under all those expectations.
Yes, it has really come to this. I should know. I’m a 17-year-old model student on a gap year. From November to February, I dedicated my time to writing supplemental essays and personal statements. My extracurricular profile has been building since Grade 6. Honestly, if leadership didn’t matter for applications, very few students would run for elections. Even fewer would fundraise for flood relief. Rather than questioning intentions, maybe we need to question the mindsets we’re shaping. This is what happens when we implement an ‘act & reward’ system: Do this because it will look good on your profile. Somewhere between the application portal and weekend activities, my dedication became a checklist, and so did the judgment of the admissions committee.
I am not claiming to be Einstein or to excel in STEM, but I know what it feels like to work for years and still find yourself on the outside looking in. I am speaking for the many who have gone through this process. Those who felt they weren’t good enough. What if the next Einstein is already in our inbox, and we just hit ‘reject?’ We say we want innovators, but we build gates only conformists can pass through. If the next Einstein is out there, I just hope we don’t delete his application before even reading it. Maybe he is already slumped at home after a rejection, thinking he isn’t good enough… and never delivering the breakthrough the world needs.
We need to raise a generation that understands learning is not transactional. We, as a society, are choosing to be a duller species by forgetting how to explore, experiment, and create. The given set of rules is followed blindly because everyone is too afraid of taking a wrong step and ‘failing’ in life. But how can someone fail at life when the purpose is simply to live? When the email arrives saying ‘we regret to inform you,’ we are subconsciously telling young people that they are undeserving. Schools should teach students to discover what they would like to do in their lives. Not everyone has to be a debater. Let them practice any art; music, writing, storytelling, photography, or perform science experiments for the sake of curiosity. Read beyond metrics. Value curiosity and imperfection. I don’t know what an ideal admissions system would look like. Our current one is far too rigid for that openness. But maybe we can start by acknowledging the flaws and, slowly, breaking the mindset that created them.
The author is a freelance writer and student.
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